


Born to Wear a Crown

by slightlytookish



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Gap Filler, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 20:17:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/pseuds/slightlytookish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wonders sometimes if Margaery's forgotten, if she will remember someday that Sansa is the daughter of a disgraced house and set her aside just as Joffrey had done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Born to Wear a Crown

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the "ostracised from society" square on my Hurt/Comfort Bingo card and contains spoilers for Game of Thrones S2 and A Storm of Swords. The title comes from W.B. Yeats' poem, "A Song from 'The Player Queen.'"

They race back to the river, losing their guards in the process. Sansa can hear them shouting from the kingswood and they sound every bit as angry as Margaery had promised. 

"Come, let's race a little further while we can," Margaery says. Sansa takes one look at her – pink-cheeked, curls askew, eyes shining brightly – and kicks her horse in response, grinning into the wind as Margaery laughs and follows. 

They race along the river before darting back into the kingswood, leading their guards on a merry chase before growing weary of their game. They dismount then, leaving the horses to graze, and walk among the trees. With the sun shining on her face and Margaery at her side Sansa feels very far from King's Landing.

"Today has been so lovely," she says, suddenly feeling shy now that she's alone with Margaery. "Is this – is this what you do in Highgarden?" It's easy for her to imagine that every day must be like this, that the Tyrells must spend every afternoon hawking and racing and laughing with friends.

"This and more," Margaery promises. "I know you will be so happy there, Sansa. Sweet sister," she adds, clasping her arm, and Sansa feels a fluttering in her chest as if there's a bird trapped in there, fighting to get out. She wonders if this is what joy feels like but it's been so long since she was happy that she isn't entirely sure. 

"I don't know what I've done to deserve your kindness," she says, half to herself, and is startled when Margaery stops and shifts around so that they're facing each other.

"What have you done to make me treat you with anything but kindness?" she asks. 

Margaery looks so genuinely puzzled that Sansa blushes and ducks her head, feeling foolish. "It's nothing," she mumbles. 

"Please tell me," Margaery says, and when Sansa doesn't look up she touches Sansa's chin and lifts it gently. Her hand is warm against Sansa's skin, and soft, and she doesn't let go even when they're looking into each other's eyes. Sansa can't help leaning into her touch, which only makes her blush even more, though she isn't sure if Margaery notices.

"Sisters don't keep secrets," Margaery says, and Sansa has to remind herself that Margaery never had a sister like Arya. "Nor do friends. We are friends, Sansa, aren't we? True friends?"

She looks so anxious that Sansa rushes to take her hand. It occurs to her that Margaery has no friends in the city – she has her cousins and her retinue, but no friends, not like Sansa had in Winterfell. 

"You're the truest friend I have in King's Landing," Sansa says, and it's not an exaggeration. She hasn't forgotten the way the other highborn ladies used to avoid her, they way they would reluctantly reply to her courtesies before hurrying to excuse themselves from her presence. She had felt so alone before Margaery's arrival, and her loneliness had weighed on her every single day until she'd forgotten what it was like to spend time with other girls, to laugh and gossip and share secrets as she now did with Margaery and her cousins. 

She tries to tell that to Margaery now, but she stumbles over her words, feeling ashamed. "It's not – I haven't – I mean, most people here don't want to spend time with me because of my family. They don't like to be seen with me – that is, they didn't before you arrived."

She wonders sometimes if Margaery's forgotten, if she will remember someday that Sansa is the daughter of a disgraced house and set her aside just as Joffrey had done. But she finds it difficult to worry about that now, when Margaery smiles at her so sweetly and gives her hand a comforting squeeze.

"I think those people are fools to bear a grudge against someone who has done nothing wrong," she says. "It won't be like that when you come to Highgarden. Everyone will be so kind to you there, you'll see."

The fluttering in Sansa's chest is so strong now that she can't speak. It's been so long since she's felt hopeful about anything that she can hardly allow herself to imagine life in Highgarden, with its fountains and singers and libraries and gardens. _And Willas_ , she reminds herself. _You mustn't forget about him._

But it's Margaery she looks to now, Margaery who is the source of all her hope. Sansa squeezes her hand in return, and hopes that the gesture shows her gratitude, at least a little.

Margaery seems to understand everything that Sansa cannot say. She smiles again and links their arms together as they walk on. Long moments pass in silence before Sansa grows aware that Margaery is watching her, sneaking little glances as if she wishes to say something and is looking for the right moment. When Sansa finally catches her eye it's Margaery's turn to blush.

"You must allow me to ask you something," she says, looking oddly hesitant. "It's been weighing on my mind since I was first betrothed to Joffrey. Did you want to be queen very much, Sansa? Do you _still_ want to?"

 _I want so many things,_ Sansa thinks, _but I don't want to be queen. Not anymore._

"No," she says. "Not ever."

Margaery looks so relieved at her response that Sansa has to ask. "Are you… very eager to be queen?"

"Oh, yes," Margaery says without hesitation. Her eyes are shining again and the sunlight is making her curls look golden around the edges, so that it almost seems as if she's wearing a crown already. "I want it more than anything."

Sansa remembers wanting that too, once. _If anyone was born to wear a crown, it's Margaery_ , she thinks, and tries to ignore the sinking of her heart.

Her thoughts must be showing on her face, though, because Margaery smiles and strokes her hand. "You mustn't worry," she says. "No harm will come to me, and nothing will come between us."

 _Except Joffrey_ , Sansa thinks. _He'll find a way to keep us apart, if only to make me unhappy_. The thought alone is enough to make her feel desperate. "I wish-" she says suddenly, and then she has to stop and look away to hide the tears gathering in her eyes. 

"What is it?" Margaery says. Her face is suddenly very close. "Tell me, Sansa, please."

"You made everything better," Sansa says, wiping her eyes. "I was so unhappy here. I felt so alone." She trails off, feeling too confused to continue. She doesn't have to marry Joffrey anymore, and she's been promised instead to a man who is said to be good and kind and honourable. She's finally found a way out of the nightmare of King's Landing. Shouldn't she be happy? Sansa knows that she should, but the realisation that she's hardly thought of Ser Loras or any other boy since Margaery's arrival only makes her tears fall faster.

Margaery's hands settle in Sansa's hair, smoothing down the strands as if to soothe her. "Things will be very different when I'm the queen," she says. "You will never again feel unwelcome here, I promise. I'll see to that."

"I just – I will miss you," Sansa says miserably. "I want to leave but I don't want to leave you. I want-" And then she gives up trying to explain and kisses Margaery instead.

Margaery's lips are soft against her own and taste like honey, and to Sansa's surprise she doesn't hesitate to kiss her back. Her hands tangle themselves in Sansa's hair, mussing all the carefully smoothed strands, and the kiss only ends when they hear the guards shouting their names from the edge of the wood.

"That wasn't very sisterly," Margaery says, but her face is flushed again and she's smiling. It nearly makes Sansa fall over in relief to see Margaery looking so pleased – so pleased with _her_! – and she finds herself smiling in return. All of the conflicting feelings she experienced just a few moments before haven't been forgotten, or solved, but for the first time in ages her mind is clear, and she feels happy.

"I suppose we shouldn't delay any longer, or else the guards will be very cross," she says.

"They can wait," Margaery says, before pulling Sansa close for another kiss.


End file.
